The Butcher of Rogaland
by xCrazyxCarxRadiox
Summary: Thora, the daughter of King Sulke, has only ever wanted to raid and rule. When a lone ship from Vestfold arrives late in the evening, she could never have known how much the man on board would change her life.


**Chapter 1: A Ship in the Night**

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The feasting hall was filled with music and mead. The sun had barely begun to set, and already the laughter of drunk villagers carried into the streets. The summer blót had been five days ago, and it had taken us three days to walk back to the village from the hof. The king and villagers alike had gathered their finest creatures to sacrifice to Odin. If he deemed them worthy, he would grant us favor in the coming raid.

I was growing restless. I ached to board the ships and sail away from this place. We had returned from our last raid nearing the end of Tvimanudur, as the leaves left the trees, and now Harpa had begun. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine myself tearing my way through the battlefield; cutting and stabbing anyone my arms were long enough to reach. I could taste their blood on my tongue, hear their begging- their pleading to the false god as I ended their lives.

Footsteps echoed across the docks behind me, and I peered over my shoulder at the burly form stumbling closer. He was nearly the size of a bear with dark hair, and a sturdy chin. The man, Kjotvi, had a silly grin on his face as he nearly tripped, and held onto the dock's nearest post. "What're you doing out here alone Thora?" He slurred and his expression morphed into a deep frown, with furrowed eyebrows, before he laughed and the grin overtook his features once more, "Join us! We're celebratin!"

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head, "I've done enough celebrating the last few days friend," I noticed now he held a horn in his hand, and he tipped it back into the sky as I spoke. I smirked, "and between the two of us, I'm not sure there'd be enough mead if you had to share."

Another, booming laugh followed my statement and he clumsily situated himself beside me, slapping an arm around my shoulder and allowing his feet to dangle off the edge of the dock next to mine. The water nearly looked black, and the torchlight shimmered over its surface in such a beautiful way that I couldn't help but admire it. "They've got quite a lot of it locked away for the feast. Will you celebrate then?"

My heart skipped, and my smile grew, "Of course I will drink then. And may Thor give me the strength to keep up with you!"

Kjotvi snorted, "You'd need his favor to have a hope of that." He quieted down, and his arm dropped down to the dock. I took the silence as an invitation to return to my thoughts, and I peered back down at the water. My bare toes grazed the surface, and my fascination increased as the ripples spanned further.

Something pushed my shoulders, and, before I could move to hold onto the dock, I fell, just managing to catch my breath on the way down. For a moment, the quiet greeted me, a joyous reprieve after days of boisterous celebration, but then, the chill caught up with me.

Almost of their own accord, my arms began leading me to the surface. I had not sunk far, and, with a few powerful kicks, I had breached it. As I rubbed the water from my eyes, it was not the dock that greeted me, but the sight of a ship moving towards shore. Torchlight cast long shadows across the water and I could hear the hoot and holler of men aboard the vessel.

Kjotvi had begun to shout, and people were swiftly crowding the shore as I swam back to the dock. It had become so frenzied that I was nearly plowed over as I picked up my disguarded footwear.

What a sight I must be, I realized with a start as the ship continued its approach. My hair was drenched, a white shirt and thin pants clinging to my skin, and I stood with shoes in hand. The King had passed out drunk in his hall earlier tonight, and, as his heir I would be expected to interrogate the strange men that neared our docks.

I hurried to the feasting hall and made swift work of finding dry clothing. I shimmied into my underdress, and tugged on a thin white dress with intricate beading; fixing a wide leather belt around the small of my waist, along with my sword. After this was done, I fastened a brown cloak around my shoulders and rushed through the roads to reach the docks.

When I arrived, the ship was nearing port, and I breached the crowd as a tall man leapt from the ship to the dock, tying it securely to a post with thick rope. He bore a large grin as he greeted the drunken warriors that had gathered on the dock. He was dressed finely, and his face bore intricate tattoos that began on his temples and covered his cheeks.

I approached the stranger cautiously, and the warriors, taking notice of my presence, made way. His smile only widened as I came closer, and he closed the remaining distance, spreading his arms, "You must be Princess Thora; allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harald, but my people call me King Finehair."

I had not heard of this king, but I supposed that there were many more kingdoms that did not neighbor ours. "A king? In that case please join me in our hall. We will make accommodations for you and your men."

There was a sparkle in his eye that nearly seemed too warm; as though he had expected this answer and had practiced a reply. "It is late, and we have arrived with no warning. I'm sure that my men will be just fine to make camp for the night, if it pleases you. Just point us to the most fitting spot." I peered over his shoulder, gauging their numbers.

"Thank you for your generosity King Harald, but we keep a longhouse ready in case of unexpected visits from our Jarls. It will be more than enough space for your warriors to lay their heads." I tipped mine at him, and gestured for him to follow. "Are you hungry?"

"I am, and I am sure my men are as well."

I strode off my path to catch the arm of a young slave that had been drawn by the noise. She stared at the ground as I gave my orders. "Go to the kitchens and tell them to prepare enough food and drink for thirty hungry men." She hurried away, and I turned my attention back to the king.

He fell into step at my side as we continued to walk, "Why have you come King Harald?"

He broke into a large grin, meeting my eyes. "The wanderers speak of a butcher from Rogaland. They say that she tears men apart with her bare hands, and sets Christians on fire to laugh as they burn. I am told to raid with Thora the Butcher is a great honor."

I could not hide my surprise, nor my pride. I had not expected my name to have spread so far. Despite his praise, I frowned, "If you had wished to raid with us, you should have brought more men."

He stepped out in front of me, and my finger's brushed the hilt of my sword. Noticing, he raised his hands as if to surrender. "We are the first of twenty ships to arrive. My brother is leading the rest here as we speak. They should not be that far behind."

His hands dropped, and he backed off. Another twenty ships would be a welcome addition to our force. The raid would go much smoother with extra hands, and we would cover more distance. However, the extra mouths to feed could end up being a problem, and the treasure would need to be split thinner. "How many men?"

"Six hundred. We are a small country, but our warriors are strong in body and spirit."

"And where is it you hail from King Harald?"

"Vestfold. It is to the east."

I nodded thoughtfully, "I cannot speak for the King, but I believe he will consider allowing you to join in the coming raid."

"And where, may I ask, is King Sulke?" he asked as we approached the feasting hall. It was massive, and lit up the otherwise dimly lit street. Music spilled out into the street, quiet, but somehow too loud. We entered and I noticed that most of the tables were now empty. The men that had once occupied them must have gone out into the streets to get a look at the strangers that had arrived.

"He is otherwise engaged, but, I'm sure that he will be delighted to hear of your arrival."

I gestured for him to sit at a table close to the fire, ordering a slave to bring him mead. Grinning, he asked her to bring me one as well. I was hesitant to drink with him, but could think of no excuses to decline the offer.

Once they were received, he called for two more, shouting "Skol!" as his men cheered and he threw back the horn. I tipped my own to him, downing the mead.

While sharing our second drink, I quickly discovered that the king was a fine storyteller. The man was brimming with excitement, cradling his drink as he leaned over the table towards me. His stories began with raiding, but, as we started our third drink, he had begun to speak of his home Vestfold, which he loved dearly. A young blond slave girl set down two plates of food as he spoke.

He said that it was a whaling village, and it looked rough, but it had a beautiful trading market, and the people that lived there were strong, honest folk.

As time passed, food was devoured, and the mead began to take its toll, I found myself nearly entranced by the king that sat before me. His voice was soft, and gravelly. It stayed in my ears long after his words had gone.

"Why do your men call you Finehair?" I asked, after he had finished telling me of his brother, Halfden the Black.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and pulled his braid over his shoulder for me to see. It had been hidden under his cloak, and reached well over his shoulders, "I have said that I will not cut my hair, until the woman of my dreams marries me." he boasted.

I thought it was silly, but sweet. "And what will the woman of your dreams do with your hair once it is cut?"

"I'm not sure. Whatever she would like I suppose." He laughed, "And what about you? Why are you called the Butcher?"

I had been so entranced, that I hadn't realized I'd said very little. A smile spread widely over my face, and I eagerly told the tale, "While I was young and raiding to the east I wandered off from camp and found myself lost. As I tried to make my way back to camp, I came across a Christian woman."

I paused as Kjotvi approached with several warriors, and waved him over, then leaned towards the king. He leaned in too, and his already broad smile deepened, "I had never been so angry as I was that day, as she began to cry and pray to her false god. I cut her into pieces and left her for the wolves. I kept looking for camp, but not too far off I found a man. When he saw me, he gave a great cry and charged toward me. So, I tore him apart. I continued my journey and came upon a small village; maybe thirty Christians. It was then that I decided that if I could not find my people, maybe I could help them to find me." I took another long drink from my cup, finishing the mead.

"How did you do that?" the king asked, glancing between me, Kjotvi, and our fellow warrior Gorm. Kjotvi handed me his drink, interrupting me as I began to speak. I sipped at it, and discovered it was water.

"She wanted until dark, and killed the Christians one by one. After she had finished, she lit each house on fire. She was lucky there was not much grass around to set fire to, or she'd have burned down the woods with us in it." he laughed, clapping me on the back. The action jarred my arm, and water spilled onto the table. "We found the bodies she'd left before we found her. And when we did find her she was spreading out the bodies of the mangled villager's for the Saxons to find, while the village burned behind her."

I hadn't realized how close I was until Harald laughed, his face only inches from mine, "A woman after my own heart. As enjoyable as this has been, it's late, and I am weary from the journey."

I nodded, and beckoned the blond slave that had been delivering us drinks to my side. "Show King Harald and his men to the visitor's longhouse."

As the king walked away, Kjotvi's hand wrapped around my upper arm, "Thora, let's join them!" he insisted, gesturing toward a small group of warriors that had gathered to sit on the floor in front of the fire.

We sat beside Kodran, a trusted friend. I was still hazy from the mead, and chose to ignore his stare in favor of stealing his drink. The man snorted and easily removed it from my grasp, "Why has a foreign king come here?"

"He wants to join our raid; there will be six hundred warriors arriving in the next few days." I told him, and Kjotvi steered my water toward my face. It prevented me from spilling and I was forced to take a large gulp before he was appeased.

Kodran spit on the floor, "And who is to say that they will not arrive tonight and kill us when we are sleeping? Or that they have not already arrived down the coast, and are already lying in wait?"

I shook my head, "I have thought of this Kodran, but I do not think they could take our village. Our men more than double their's." my friend seemed doubtful, and I patted his head. The other warriors laughed as he made a show of rolling his eyes. "If you must, gather a group of trusted men to watch over the longhouse and the docks. We will sound the horn if there is any trouble. But we must keep these concerns quiet, King Sulke may want make an ally of these people, and it would be wise to avoid offending them."

"Well then, who will join me?"

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**Rogaland **was a petty kingdom on the south-west side of Norway. It is still a county today. In the show Rogaland is mentioned to have been ruled over by King Arnarson, but according to the Icelandic Sagas its King was named Sulke. It would make sense that Arnarson is the King's Surname, but he wasn't mentioned enough in the show to prove that and the sagas do not mention his last name.

**Blót** is the term for "sacrifice" in Norse paganism. A blót could be dedicated to any of the Norse gods, the spirits of the land, and to ancestors. A large blót, such as the summer and winter blóts, would usually be held at a hof.

**Hof** is a pagan temple.

Vikings believe in two seasons; summer and winter. They have a lovely lunar calendar. **Tvimanudur** is what we know as September; raids would usually end around this time, because the following month was Hausmanudur or "harvest month". **Harpa **or May is the first summer month, and the summer blót would be held to gain Odin's favor in upcoming wars and raids. The month is also the month of the girls. Meaning that any girl that had not yet bled could choose a day to be celebrated. However, if she chooses a day that has bad weather, it could be a warning.

If you know any cool cultural facts about the Vikings that you're interested in sharing, please leave them in a review! I love to learn new things, and it could help out later in the story.

All that being said, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


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